


Strong Enough

by TaraLaurel1



Series: The Alpha and Batman Chronicles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hospital, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Oblivious Scott, POV Derek, POV Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 06:04:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLaurel1/pseuds/TaraLaurel1
Summary: “I'm fine,” Stiles made a grab for his keys, not even bothering to ask what the Alpha was doing there. “I need to get -”“I know,” was all Derek said, pocketing Stiles’ keys. “My car's faster.”Slight AU where Stiles' mother passes away sometime around Season 2. Derek is there when Stiles gets the phone call to come to the hospital. I know things like it have been done before, but it wouldn't stop writing itself in my head, so here it is.





	Strong Enough

Stiles was in the middle of tossing something at Scott that Derek couldn't quite catch a glimpse of when the kid's phone buzzed in his pocket.

“My dad,” Stiles waved his best friend off in farewell as he stared at the small screen.

Sometimes Scott was a terrible werewolf. The younger shapeshifter failed to even hint at noticing the swift spike in Stiles' heartbeat. The kid watched his friend peddle away, likely waiting for the wolf to be out of earshot before answering.

“Dad?”

Derek squinted when the boy's voice wavered in pitch. It wasn't the sweaty-stammering-Stiles-speak that the teenager normally excelled at. The worry – no – fear – flecking his voice and now face wasn't something the Alpha had seen or heard from him before. Sure, the kid had been pretty properly terrified when facing possible imminent death, or Derek, but never like this. This was somehow, deeper. Suddenly, like a thick and suffocating fog, grief permeated off of the boy. It had a familiar tang to it and, with some shame, Derek realized that there had always been a hint of it flavoring the teenager; buried, but present. Stiles possessed and interesting aroma about him. Chalky, thanks to his medication. Underneath that, there were layers of cedar and lemon, a whisper of vanilla and cooking grease, and finally, sickness and grief. He recognized the last two but had never paid much attention to them before. To Stiles before.

Thinking back, Derek could recall sickness once being the most pungent of Stiles' scents. Not the boy’s own sickness. But that sort of all-around sickness, laced with disinfectant and latex. The smells of hospital and death. That was when he had first met the boys in the woods following Scott getting bitten. Now Derek felt like an idiot for missing this. Stiles was intelligent and so stubbornly independent and proud. Of course after finding out that his best friend had developed superior senses Stiles would take to covering his tracks, or, smells. That was the cedar and lemon. Always so strong. It must have been the boy's soap and cologne.

A thought struck him then. Or, more accurately, a memory.

His family had kept close tabs on the safety of Beacon Hills. This also meant that they kept up on local law enforcement. Stilinski wasn’t the sheriff when he had lived here before, but he was certainly on his way there. Probably the most well-liked deputy on the force. He remembered his mother lamenting about the man's wife. Talia had liked Claudia. It was a small town and even a secretive family of werewolves had friends. Claudia had used to stop by for tea with his mother. Derek remembered because they always had a lecture about keeping their secret, well, a secret, when guests were invited over. Shortly before the fire, Claudia had stopped coming over. Instead, Talia would leave to visit her. She always returned smelling of chemicals – and death.

Was Stiles' mother ill? Had Derek really never noticed? Granted, he had been a little distracted after the fire and when he had come back home. Still, he couldn't recount Stiles mentioning his mother, not once, since he had met the boy. He talked about his father frequently. Derek had technically even met the man, though not under great circumstances. Stiles didn't even talk to Scott about her, at least, not during any of the conversations he had overheard while keeping an eye on the new wolf.

“Mom.”

Stiles' whisper brought Derek back to the present. It wasn't a question. The word was like a breath, as if Stiles had been waiting to hear whatever news was on the other end of the line for a very long time.

“They said that we should be there,” came the thick reply over the phone. “I'm coming to pick you up.”

“How long?” Derek heard Stiles swallow.

“Stiles -”

“How long?

The lack of response from the man was enough of an answer for both Stiles and Derek.

“Don't come, Dad. You'll just waste time.”

“Kid, I -

“Go, Dad! I'll – I'll be there. Just, go. That way, then, one of us can be with her at least.”

Stiles shoved his phone in his pocket, not allowing his father to protest. Wiping a hand roughly over his face, Stiles released a rough breath that ended in something between a clearing throat and a cough. With a small nod to no one but himself, the boy marched purposefully toward his jeep. The keys slid between his shaking fingers as he fought with the lock. Stiles cursed loudly, fist greeting the metal door. And then again. And again.

Derek could smell the blood.

By the time Stiles finally bent down to collect his keys, they were gone.

“Get in my car.”

Surprisingly, Stiles didn't jump as he stood to, very closely, face Derek Hale.

“I'm fine,” Stiles made a grab for his keys, not even bothering to ask what the Alpha was doing there. “I need to get -”

“I know,” was all Derek said, pocketing Stiles’ keys. “My car's faster.”

True as that statement was, Derek didn't dare speak the other reason he was offering the teenager a ride. Suggesting Stiles wasn't fit to operate a motor vehicle in his current state would have merely poked the prideful bear and have the kid hot wiring his jeep and then crashing. Derek was attempting to convince Scott to join his pack and was pretty sure knowingly letting the beta's best friend get killed wasn't a winning strategy.

The bait worked and Stiles made a sharp turn toward the Camaro.

Neither spoke as Derek ripped through the streets, dutifully and skillfully ignoring traffic laws, lights and signs. He weaved between the others on the road with the same accuracy and grace he had while running as a wolf through the forest. They screeched into the hospital parking lot and Stiles was already at the door before Derek had killed the engine. The shock of the phone call must have worn off because now the boy was moving with scary speed for a human.

The werewolf hastily parked and hurried after the teenager. He merely followed the boy's scent until it stopped. And then, so did Derek.

“Sir, you can't come in here.”

Derek looked past the waif of a nurse, eyes landing sharply on the struggling figure of Stiles as he was pulled away from the bed by a burly brute of a man.

“Mom! Mom!”

“Get him out of here, now!” A doctor ordered from across the room.

“What happened?" Stiles bucked against his captor, reaching toward the bed, and the woman lying motionless on it. "Why is there blood? Why is there so much blood? Mom!”

“Someone get him out of here!” 

“No! You can't! That's my mom! Let go! Please! Not again!" Stiles broke free, tumbling forward and catching himself on the bed. "You're stronger than this! You told me you were!" The hands were on him again and Stiles clung to the railing. "No! Stop! Please!”

“Stiles.”

The room went sharply silent for a beat. 

“Ma – Mom?” Stiles didn't have to struggle as he staggered toward her, the nurse having loosened his grip.

“Stiles?” A trembling hand lifted up off the bed and toward the boy.

“Mrs. Stilinski, can you tell me how many pills you took?” The doctor cut in.

Stiles looked as though physically stricken.

“Enough.”

“Mom? Why?” He leaned over her. 

“I did this for you. You and your father. You can be free from me, Stiles. I wasn't strong enough. But I know you are.”

“Mom -” Stiles' throat sounded thick and wet.

“Kid, you can't -” The doctor waved for the nurse.

“I love you,  _ kochanie _ .” The frail fingers stretched out, stroking her son's cheek.

“I love you, Mom.” Stiles reached up, grasping the hand with his own.

If this was a movie, his mother would have faded away after those soft-spoken sentiments. Those would have been the last words she ever spoke to her son. Sadly, Stiles' life was fated to be far more tragic.

“Come on, kid, we're gonna do everything we can -”

“No!”

This time, it was his mother screaming.

“You can't take him!" Claudia's hand clamped down on Stiles' shoulder. "He's not yours! Get away from my son! You monsters! Stiles! Don't let them get you too! They have your father! Run, Stiles, run!”

Derek heard that hammering heartbeat stutter to a stop from the hallway. He stepped back as the nurse roughly deposited Stiles out into the hall. The man was speaking, but the kid was obviously not listening. For someone so small, Stiles sure could put up a good wriggling, spastic, limbs flailing fight. The werewolf could already make out the scratches littering the nurse’s arms. Stiles surprisingly slipped out of his grasp several times and Derek quickly realized that it wouldn’t be long before the teenager would burst back into that room.

Coming at Stiles from behind, Derek didn’t hesitate before wrapping strong arms around the kid. Seconds ago, Derek was ready to deck the nurse for trying to keep the son from his dying mother. Now, though, he could hear the distinct absence of a heartbeat coming from behind that door. 

“Stiles! Stiles, stop!”

“No! No! Let go of me! Derek, let me go!”

Seeing the young man oddly having no difficulty restraining the boy, the nurse returned inside. 

“Stiles, stop! She’s gone! You don’t want to see her like this! Trust me! You don’t want to remember her like this. She wouldn’t want you to.”

Stiles reared back, grappling at Derek’s arms, kicking backward at his legs until his own gave out and he went down, the werewolf easing the fall. And then Stiles just screamed. One long, high-pitched, scratchy howl of a thing that tore its way through the kid’s throat and ricocheted off the walls. 

Derek remembered this part. Feeling the pain in the middle of the science lab. Doubling over from it and shielding his blue eyes. Not knowing that Laura was just down the hall on the floor of the girl’s bathroom, red-eyed and tearing a stale to pieces. Getting pulled out of class and told about the fire. Running all the way from the school through town and the woods to the house to see it for himself. Dropping to his knees in front of the still smoldering wood and lines of police tape and screaming and screaming until he tasted blood and his voice cracked off into cries. 

And then Laura had come up behind him, dragged him out into the woods before anyone noticed that he had started to shift. There, against a fallen tree, she held him.

So that’s what he did. He held Stiles. No offered words of comfort. Just pulled the boy close and kept him there as he wept into the jacket of the werewolf who had more than once threatened to rip out his throat.  

 


End file.
